Perchance to Dream
by Daggzandarrows
Summary: In Storybrooke our characters wake to deduce two things; 1. they are most certainly not in the Enchanted Forest as they were supposed to be and 2. Regina is under a sleeping curse. Henry doesn't remember his mother and no one knows just what happened during the Missing Year between the Queen and a certain Outlaw. Will they be able to wake her and find the answers they seek?
1. Chapter 1

**Huge thanks to Lillie-Grey (my lovely Em) for taking time out of her busy days to help me get this thing written and for reading and re-reading and listening to all of my haphazard and muddled ideas and turning this into something more than just an idea for me. Seriously, I wouldn't be posting this if it weren't for her!**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **Present Time - Storybrooke**

"Oh my god," Emma exhaled a heavy breath as she moved around the glass casket, eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief as she took in the eerily still form laying within. "And you're sure she's not…"

"No," Mary Margaret cut her off quickly whilst David's palm came to rest on her back, a small comfort in the face of things, "she's sleeping."

"But how can you be su-"

"I just know Emma," it was her father's pointed look that had her dropping the subject and looking back to a woman who looked nothing like the one she'd known. She looked younger, face free of the hard lines she often wore, free of rage and regret. She was wearing familiar clothing, another of her form fitting dresses but it was her hair that had the blonde's attention. "I changed her after we'd found her," Snow explained having seen emerald eyes tracing over long curls that fell over the brunette's shoulder, "but I didn't want to touch her hair," and as though she'd forgotten there were others in the room she whispered "I always loved it long."

Emma gave her mother a small smile, complete unease alighting her nerves. This hadn't been what she'd expected when Killian had convinced her to return, not in the slightest. "Where did you find her?"

It was David who spoke now, "She was out in the woods," his voice soft as he wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders and pulled her a little closer.

"Alone?"

Both of their brows furrowed then as they looked from one another to Emma and back to the woman they believed they'd never see fall under the very same curse that she'd put Snow under so long ago. Their heads shook slowly, looking and _looking_ at Regina as though the mystery would simply unravel itself for them. "There was a man with her, asleep too."

"Under the curse?" she questioned with a hand pressed against the glass.

Again their heads shook, "He woke up not long after we found them."

"So why the faces?" her own brow was furrowed as she studied their expressions with eyes narrowed slightly.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Mary Margaret's mouth as she breathed "They were holding hands."

* * *

 **One Year Before - The Enchanted Forest**

The castle, so very gray and cold during her reign, is filled with colour and noise and with more people than she's ever truly known it to house. Her wing of the castle is relatively quiet with only Snow, Charming, the thief and his son taking the rooms near her own and there are those who still move to avoid her as much as is possible whenever she graces the rest of the inhabitants with her presence. She's used to it though, even in Storybrooke she'd been given a wide berth where possible, it is nothing new to her.

What is rather new though is the very thought of someone actually _wanting_ to spend time with her, a new concept all together. Even more shocking is that there seem to be _two_ someone's - one a little more persistent than the other despite his tiny stature.

She first noticed her new shadow fully one afternoon in her gardens, she'd been crying at the sight of her apple tree standing just where it once had, branches heavy with glossy red fruit. She'd been pressing both the palm of her hand and her forehead to the thick bark when she'd heard the light thud of footsteps through the grass behind her and had spun around abruptly only to find no one there...well, no one until she'd dropped her line of sight a good couple of feet to find Roland looking up at her rather apprehensively.

He was biting at his thumb and, upon reflex, she moved to tell him not to do so, only stopping herself when she realised that it was not her place to tell him such a thing. Instead she swallowed deeply against the lump that had been rising in her throat and plastered a smile on her face for him. "Hello sweetheart," she hadn't spoken to him since the incident with the flying monkey and was still unsure as to how he thought of her, if he knew of her reputation, of the evil she'd once been.

"Why are you sad?"

It was not the reply she was expecting nor ready for when his head tilted, messy curls bouncing with the movement.

Her lips parted at that as though she were about to speak, but she found she had no words, momentarily stunned as she remembered the bluntness of a child of his age (feeling a stab of melancholy at the thought of another little boy with brown hair and dark eyes and a wonderfully inquisitive nature) and the simplicity they brought to the most chaotic of moments. "What makes you think I'm sad?" she asked gently, curiously as she lowered herself into a crouch, glad when he didn't move away from her, but instead shuffled a little closer.

He was smaller than Henry had been at his age (which she guessed to be around 3 or 4 though she couldn't be sure), not by much but enough to notice though his eyes were just as innocently wide as they took her in. His brunette curls were unruly to say the least and though she'd have had a field day had her son's hair gotten to be so messy, on Roland it was simply adorable and most definitely endearing. He lifted a small hand up, palm facing her as he continued moving slowly forward and she only understood what he was doing when his fingers came into contact with the skin of her cheek, the pads wet when he showed them to her.

She hadn't even realised that she'd allowed the tears to fall.

Roland's brow was furrowed as he looked from her eyes to her mouth and told her "You don't smile neither," and when she tried, the observations of one so little as he making it a little harder to do so convincingly, he pressed his hand to her cheek once more, this time holding instead of wiping, and told her "I think it would be pretty."

"My smile?" a breath of surprised laughter escaped her when she rocked back on her heels a little and when he nodded her smile did come a little easier, her dark eyes sparkling with warmth as she moved then to kneel and take his hand from her face but kept it within her own as she tilted her head in study.

"See!" he giggled, bouncing on his heels and flashing those womb aching dimples at her, "pretty."

* * *

It didn't take many more meetings like that, alone in Regina's garden and away from judgemental stares, that Roland's fondness for her began to bleed into much more of her time.

She'd been talking to the Charmings' one morning after breakfast, discussing the route for the next patrolling group that was to leave that evening, when she'd felt a tug on the skirt of her dress and glanced down to find those beautiful brown eyes gazing up at her from beneath messy curls. It was on instinct that she brushed her fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his forehead with a few strokes to keep it in place. He was smiling, shyly now that others were looking, but smiling nonetheless and she couldn't help but return it. "Good morning, sweetheart."

His smile warmed at the term of endearment and he shuffled a little closer, the velvety material of her dress still clasped within tiny fingertips. He liked the feel of it, he'd told her so the first time she'd worn one in his company. She hadn't been able to stop herself from recalling that her own son had enjoyed the feel of her silk pyjama sets and had spent many an evening snuggled in close to her and running his small hand up and down her arm - as soothing for her as it had been for him. It still hurt, to think of her Henry and to compare him with this little one, but she was learning to swallow down the sting, even if only for the sake of Roland.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked, her hand still in his hair as he shook his head, eyes still steady on her own as she furrowed her brow. She was about to excuse herself from the presence of the two she knew would be watching them rather closely (curiosity over anything else) when another voice reached her ears.

"There you are my boy!" it was Robin.

Her fingers instantly retreated from the boy's hair, hand dropping limply to her side as she watched Robin moving closer to them, his eyes on Roland and a relieved smile on his face. Her brow furrowed in both confusion and worry when she felt Roland step in closer to her side. What confused her most was not the fact that she felt little fingers grasp lightly at her own for the young boy often sat upon the grass with her and took complete control of her hands, fascinated by the many rings she wore and how they felt against his fingers, but the realisation that the thief was looking upon his son with nothing but a warm smile, not a glance of contempt thrown her way.

His reaction to his son spending time with her surprised her as much as it didn't. Had he not been the one to offer her a hand up when she'd been attacked by one of her sister's winged beasts? Had he not followed her to help her break into her own castle simply to look out for her? He was a complete enigma to her and his mystery only grew with every soft smile and kind look he gave her over their time spent here.

He unsettles her though, has her stomach fluttering in a way it hasn't since she'd caught a handsome stable boy's eyes looking her over a little too often to be considered curiosity. She hadn't known what it had meant at that age, didn't understand why a boy's attentions would have her heart beating a little faster, why she'd blush whenever she'd speak in his presence even if her words hadn't been directed at him. She knew what it was now, to lust, to love and it was something she wasn't all too pleased with feeling again and especially not for this man.

"How many times do I have to ask you not to wonder off, hmm?"

She looked down to see Roland squirming a little against her side, her hand swinging in his as he twisted his body from side to side with his head hung in disappointment. He'd told her that he hated when his papa shouted, not that Robin did often or at all really but when he did, it made the boy sad. "I just wanted to see Majesty…"

Robin lowered himself to a crouch to look properly at his son and she expected him to tell the boy that such a thing was not allowed but instead he reached forward enough to grasp at Roland's chin lightly, urging his gaze upwards before telling him, "That may be so," much to Regina's absolute surprise, "but I worry when you disappear from my sight little one."

A little lip trembled as beautifully dark eyes filled with tears, much in the way that Henry's used to whenever she'd have to get stern with him.

Robin softened all the more at that, his intention not quite to scold his son but certainly to remind him not to leave his side without word, "how about we make a deal?"

Roland's voice was quiet and sad as his grip tightened on Regina's fingers and he asked "A deal papa?"

Robin nodded with a warm hum that had Regina wondering if honey would drip from his tongue when he next opened his mouth, it didn't of course. "Mhmm." He held out his hand for his son to accept as he negotiated. "You may see whomever it is your little heart desires," but before Roland could shake he tilted his head and stipulated "as long as you tell me where it is you are going. How does that sound?"

The small brunette was nodding eagerly as he shook his father's hand and Regina couldn't help but let out a breath of fond laughter that was instantly fading when Robin finally acknowledged her, still with a smile. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet and she almost commented " _I know how that feels,"_ the effects of age missed no man but she bit her tongue for it was hardly appropriate.

"Your Majesty" he nodded in something of a 'hello' before looking to his boy, still glued to her side, and back again as he laughed "it seems my boy is quite taken with you."

" _Papa!"_ Roland whined on a laugh as both Regina and his father turned to look at him, chuckling fondly.

She squeezed his little fingers as she replied "I can assure you," her dark eyes finding Robin's once more as she told him with complete sincerity "the feeling is quite mutual."

He nodded with a wide smile, leaning down enough to bop the tip of his son's nose with his finger before straightening. "Well, I'll leave you both to it then," rocking back on his heels for a moment before adding "and if the two of you should feel like sharing your company," he indicated to a spot on the long table behind him upon which two bowls of porridge rested, one portion smaller and clearly meant for Roland, the other presumably his, "then I would be greatly honoured."

Roland smiled, nodding at his father before tugging at Regina's hand to gain her attention for a moment. She was still a little shocked at the offer when Roland asked "Can we Majesty?" tugging on her heartstrings with "we can't let papa eat alone!"

For added effect, a little lip came out in a pout, eyes wide and pleading and to her surprise, when she turned to glance back at the thief, he was wearing quite the similar expression as though he actually _wanted_ to spend time in her company rather than just extending an obligatory invitation for the sake of his son. Of course the two idiots were also still lingering nearby, Snow with an absolutely beaming smile on her face as David rubbed the base of her back and smiled somewhat encouragingly at her.

She knew that Snow's mind had veered on back to the conversation that they'd had in the forest, another damn hope speech to keep her from burying her heart away in both the metaphorical and physical sense. It was exasperating, _she_ was exasperating and she would most certainly not let this go even if Regina declined the invitation and went to hide away in her room for the rest of her life. It was with that very reasoning, a chance to put off the inevitable for even only an hour or so, that Regina accepted the invitation, ignoring everyone else but the little boy bouncing excitedly beside her.

* * *

"Does he look like you?"

She startled at the sound of his voice, turning to find him dropping down onto the stone bench beside her, eyes already cast out towards the night darkened landscape easily viewed from her balcony. She hadn't heard his approach but then, she thinks, isn't that the very point of who he is, a thief of both monetary value and privacy? He invades her thoughts as much as he does her space and she rather loathes him for that (loathes him more for the fact that she doesn't loathe him at all). "I beg your pardon?" and it's less of a question, more of an exclamation of offense for how dare he enter her chambers in such a way, how dare he invite himself not only into her room but her life. She'd left him with barely an explanation earlier, had bid farewell to his son and taken her leave. She should've known that he'd come searching for her once bedtime hit.

"Your boy," he offers what she already knows and, she thinks, if he's still trying to distract her, bringing Henry's beautiful face to the forefront of her mind - as if it ever leaves it - is not the best of ways. "Roland is practically the image of his mother," he explains softly, affectionately,though she's not sure if it is for his son or his deceased wife, "all dark hair and eyes," she can hear the smile in his tone as he talks of them both and knows that she sounds much the same when talking of Henry and of Daniel, "but his dimples, those are all mine."

She can't help it, finds herself dropping her head to hide the smile she doesn't want him to see (he will, he sees far more with her than most other people and it confuses her as much as it unnerves her) as she thinks of the boy she'd pulled from the flying monkey's path and those adorable little indents in his cheeks. She hadn't noticed Robin's but then he hasn't had much reason to smile whilst in her company and that thought has her own dropping once more. "He's not mine."

"I'm sorry?"

She breathed a heavy exhale through her nose before looking back up to the stars that paint the inky black sky, wondering if Henry was looking upon the very same scene at that very moment. He'd always loved stargazing as a child, would bounce upon her bed relentlessly until she'd drag herself out, sleep-drunk and itchy eyed, and change into something warmer (Henry would have already pulled on his hat and gloves set along with one of his thickest coats). They'd spend hours making up ridiculous names for the stars, creating elaborate tales of the people who lived on each one. She'd often awake to find him nuzzled into her, the both of them still laying out upon the grass with the portable heater still glowing beside them and the sun peeking over the horizon. Those were some of her favourite memories.

"In the other world-"

"The one the curse took you to?" he asked and she nodded, gaining a little patience at the look of genuine curiosity in his eyes.

She swallowed deeply, dropping her eyes to the hands she had clasped in her lap before explaining "when children are born to those who are unable to properly care for them," only a year ago she would have described it as abandonment but she'd found some sort of companionship with Henry's birth mother during their time in Neverland, a tentative sort of friendship and certainly a strong trust that had her reconsidering her words, "there is a system in place to ensure that, should the baby be adopted by the right people or _person_ ," she gave him a moment to connect the system to the word 'adopt', before continuing "they are given the chance that they deserve, the care that they require."

He seemed to consider that for a moment and she can't help but study his face as a light breeze carried by the night air swirls around them and ruffles his hair. He's handsome, even if she thinks it begrudgingly, and there's a kindness she hadn't expected from him, one that keeps making itself known despite who she had been so many years ago, a sort of understanding that had her lowering her walls inadvertently. She'd meant to tell him to mind his own business and stop bothering her with things that don't concern him even if he'd comforted her earlier and allowed his son to be near her, but then the words had been spilling from her lips without consent.

"So," he licked his lips and pretended not to notice the way her eyes automatically dropped to watch, "forgive me if I have this wrong, but if I've understood your wording correctly," she nods in slight encouragement, "you 'adopted'" and the word sounds strange on his tongue but he continues almost wincingly, waiting for her to huff and shout at him but she doesn't, "your son?" and when she nods, "you took in a child in need of a home and in need of love without any gain for yourself?"

She frowned at his phrasing as she told him "my gain came from the love I received in return. From the years I got to experience watching this little boy grow into a wonderful young man. I got to teach him to walk and to speak, how to read and to write. I spent nights with him cuddled into my side and mornings pillow fighting until we couldn't breathe through our laughter," she was grinning now, eyes barely on him as she lost herself in memories, "I got to experience the joy of watching my Henry live and love and laugh…" she shook her head slowly as a tear trailed down her cheek, "I believe I gained far more from him than he did from me."

* * *

She'd never truly appreciated the beauty of the outdoors until she'd adopted her son and watched him make swords from sticks far too thin to offer any real protection, until the tarmac flooring of the park had become hot lava and she'd had to hop up onto the swing beside Henry's to find 'safety' and until the stars that speckled the night sky had created something of a nightly tradition between them both - at Henry's request.

She'd tell him a new tale each night, stories told to her by her own father and some made up from her own imagination - once a little rusty but brought back to life by her young son - and he'd ' _ooh'_ and ' _aah'_ , would point up at the sky from his place on the ground, laying next to her in the backyard, and ask ' _what about that one, mama?'_ Many a night she'd continue on until he'd be heavy and warm against her side, his thumb secure in his suckling mouth and his breaths deep and even. She'd hold him for long moments, breathe him in and stroke gentle fingers through his hair before she'd allow herself to succumb to the night breeze, scoop her precious boy up into her strong arms and carry him to bed where she'd lay with him until morning.

"It's his birthday soon," she finds herself murmuring into the space between herself and the outlaw who'd been watching his son just as she had, catches the way his head turns towards her in her peripheral though her eyes remain forward. He doesn't speak for a long moment, just seems to be watching her, understanding that she wishes just to speak and not to answer questions. "He'll be thirteen."

"A young man," he comments with a warm smile that she can hear lacing his words and it brings a small one of her own as she nods, a salted tear escaping to trail down her cheek before she catches it on the back of a finger and flicks the moisture away. Unable to help her smile when he produces a clean handkerchief from his pocket. "For when Roland falls and hurts himself," he explains needlessly when her eyebrows rise in question and she remembers the band-aids and antibacterial wipes she'd carry in her purse even when Henry wasn't with her.

She uses the piece of cloth to dab at her face, ignoring the scent of him that lingers on the material when she inadvertently takes a deep inhale to steady her emotions and he gives her the moment she needs.

This is easier, she thinks, than speaking with Snow and Charming or with Granny; it's easier finding a kind curiosity in gentle blue eyes that have never known her boy than it is finding poorly contained judgement in the gazes of those who know far too much. Still, her brow furrows as she tries to swallow down the lump forming in her throat, quite sure that Henry's absence from her life would never cease to have her heart clenching painfully within her chest.

"What would your day have been like, together?" he asks, eyes on his boy though his attention is on her, "if you had still been there and there was no curse nor separation, what would the two of you have done together?"

She smiles despite herself as she turns to give him a quick glance - which he returns - before facing forward once more. He's trying to distract her with happier memories, meaning to occupy her mind with happier thoughts, a technique that she would have found rather condescending from anyone else, but from him it doesn't feel that way. "Well," Regina begins with a gentle shrug that told nothing of the ache she felt in her bones even as she fought to smile at the memories that assaulted her mind, "I would have woken him a little earlier than his alarm for a birthday morning cuddle," she nods in response to Robin's " _that sounds nice,"_ despite him having no possible knowledge of what an 'alarm' was, before continuing "then I'd have had to drag him from his bed" that drew a chuckle from him, "and down to the kitchen so that he could eat his favorite breakfast before school," again, another term he would have been unfamiliar with but still he didn't stop her story to ask, just accepted it as another element from the land she'd returned from, "and then I'd spend all day, whilst he was out, making all of his favorite dinners and desserts ready for when he came home."

"That sounds wonderful," he comments warmly, warns his boy not to play too close to the castle wall for fear of what could lurk outside of them, before he looks back to her, "he's a lucky boy."

"He was," she grew sombre once more, blinking to keep her tears at bay and she was glad when he didn't try to correct her nor give her false hope. She knew he believed that they'd meet again at some point in the future but it seemed he was intelligent enough to know that those kind of promises were not what she needed right now so he simply remained silent though he shifted to walk a little closer to her, a warmth along her side that was as comforting as it was terrifying.

* * *

 **Present Time - Storybrooke**

He managed a smile as his son squealed and fought against the large hands tickling at his sides, a tiny little person absolutely no match for the giant that was Robin's best friend and trusted companion. Little John was keeping Roland blessedly preoccupied as he fought to work through the long list of questions muddling his mind. He'd been short tempered these last few days, had found himself easily worked up and had gone as far as to shout at his boy for no reason at all. It had been the trembling lip and fat rolling tears from Roland that had made him aware of just how awful he was being. They were all stuck here in this new land, away from the comforts of their beloved camp and lost in a world of complete mystery and it wasn't fair for him to be taking out his frustration on others.

He still couldn't get the feeling of her soft hand encased in his own out of his mind, a touch that he could still feel the ghost sensation of on his skin. It had been the persistent nudging that had awoken him, the boot that had been digging gently into his side over and over that'd had his eyes blinking slowly open to find two figures stood above him. He'd made a move to grab at the dagger hidden in his own boot when he'd found his hand to be filled with another's.

He'd almost flinched back when he'd discovered it to be the Queen beside him, her dark hair fanned out around her head with errant twigs and leaves dirtying the curled locks. Her eyes had been closed, her lips pressed lightly together and her face completely relaxed in her slumber. He still had absolutely no explanation nor reasoning as to why he'd been holding her hand or why he'd been with her in the first place. One moment he'd been laying down with his son in the Dark One's castle to get some sleep for the night and the next he'd awoken here in this new land.

He'd known of her only by reputation, caught glimpses of her in the town square whenever she'd deemed it necessary to remind the villagers of the power she'd wielded. Her beauty was just as he'd heard tell of - unrivalled by any. The Princess was fair, a subtle beauty that couldn't be denied but the Queen was absolutely stunning and though he'd surprised himself with such thoughts, something inside of him wouldn't allow the denial of his instant attraction to her.

The Prince and Princess (or Snow and David as they'd asked him to call them, something he wasn't quite comfortable with just yet) had explained their own theories to him, " _all of the portals in our land have been destroyed, we believe the curse to be the only way to bring us back here."_ They'd told him that it was quite obvious that there had been a significant amount of time stolen from them all with the arrival of Robin and his men and the Princess' ( _Snow's_ ) very swollen belly.

He'd listened in silence and then watched as David had bent to wake the Queen, both the Prince and his wife having grown concerned that she had yet to awaken. He'd pulled gently at her arm and tapped lightly at her cheek whilst speaking her name (Regina, he'd never known and yet found himself rolling it around on his tongue for absolutely no reason that he could think of) but there had been no response. It was only when he'd lowered himself enough to hover his ear over her mouth and nose and press two fingers to a spot on her neck just below the corner of her jaw that they'd realised something had been wrong.

Snow had wept and sobbed and he'd found the reaction to be more than surprising with the history between the woman and her former (evil) step-mother as David had turned to her, to them both, with a solemn expression but something hadn't fitted the conclusion of death. " _But she's still warm,"_ Robin had whispered as he'd looked down upon the eerily still figure of the Queen, not quite understanding what was happening.

It was then that Snow White herself had asked her husband aside with the pressing of her palm to his shoulder before she was kneeling before Regina, unperturbed by the dirt track they were on and the mud she pressed her knees into (but then hadn't she been a bandit for most of her youth, on the run from the very woman she was crying for?) and running soft palms over the woman's face, eyes tracing every single feature.

She'd turned, after a long moment, to her husband and told him " _I don't believe her to be dead,"_ and when he'd cocked his head at her questioningly she'd merely replied " _we need to find Blue."_

They'd disappeared after that, the Queen resting limply in David's grasp, cradled against his chest and it had been the last he'd really seen of them since. He was so very unsure why but he'd been unable to think of much else _but_ the Queen and believed that soon, perhaps it best he venture into this new town and find what had become of her...even if only to stop his mind from wearing itself out completely.

* * *

He'd found himself in something of a tavern, the smell of food and the sound of others within the building having lured him inside. He'd have to bring his son and his men here tonight, the little amount of food they'd been able to hunt and gather in the woods not nearly enough to sustain them all. At home, they'd known the forest like the backs of their own hands, knew where produce thrived, understood the schedules of the deer. Here, they knew nothing.

It was brimming with life, a sea of faces he didn't know save for one. He was standing a few yards away, leaning forward and bracing his weight with his forearms as he conversed with an older woman standing behind what looked to be the bar. There were a large array of strange machines that ran the length of the wall behind her, some static whilst others had parts that moved, liquid that filled the cups positioned beneath the stream. He could just about hear the clinking of ceramic and metal the closer he got to them, the kitchen of sorts to the woman's right if his ears were still good enough to go on.

"Your Highness," he greeted, he managed a small smile for both the woman behind the counter - she bid the Prince goodbye before moving to speak with another standing just beside them - and for the exhausted man in front of him.

"Please," he pushed himself up from the bar and offered his hand for Robin to shake, "call me David." It was a friendly reminder and Robin couldn't help but nod sheepishly as he shook and released David's hand. "How are you?"

The archer sighed heavily, shaking his head as he looked about the room they were in and mused "this world is very strange."

David chuckled knowingly, "I had the memories given to me by the first curse to guide me, but I've no doubt that I would've struggled had all of this been thrust upon me." He clapped a hand on Robin's shoulder before telling him "You'll grow used to it."

Robin shrugged, not quite sure how and at the same time wondering how long they were going to be _in_ this new land before he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and asked "And you? How are you?" and when David sighed, his shoulders dropping as he moved to lean against the bar once more, Robin pointed out "You look exhausted."

"I am," the Prince admitted, reaching across himself for one of the cups of steaming dark liquid that had been placed there by the elderly woman, taking a long sip and sighing with something like relief as he swallowed. "Snow wishes to remain by Regina's side and I refuse to leave her there alone." his commitment to his dear wife was apparent in both his words and his tired eyes, "It's not the most comfortable of floors however."

Robin managed a small laugh before he sobered once more and began "I hope you don't think it wrong of me to ask but…" his brow furrowed, "the Princess is rather protective of the woman who once spent her life hunting her, do you not find that strange?"

David smiled and Robin managed to relax a little having not caused offence, "I didn't understand it myself at first, still don't if I'm honest" he amended, "but things changed during our time here, _Regina_ changed." He sighed heavily, clearly thinking on his next words before he confided "I've seen how she can love, _really_ love and though, once upon a time, I never thought it possible for a heart as dark as hers to lighten...it did, it has, just like my Snow always knew it would."

"Their relationship, their... _kinship_ " he decided on the term despite however tentative their friendship was, "is special, it fits no usual description but it is strong and it is true and as long as Snow is happy, safe and trusting of Regina, then so will I be."

Robin nodded his understanding before he asked "and how fares the Queen?" he tried for nonchalance but even he could hear the strong interest lacing his words, it wasn't a simple enquiry, he truly wanted to know of her fate.

David's head tilted as he studied Robin, no doubt thinking of the position he'd found both Robin and Regina in when they'd lain unconscious on the forest floor - something Robin had wondered on himself for the past few days - though he made no comment before he sighed and explained "Blue has been busy with the fairies, attempting to make sense of how we were returned here. Regina had ended her first curse and we were supposed to have returned to our land," his brow furrowed in frustration as he continued "we believe that perhaps that _did_ happen. Snow wasn't pregnant, or she didn't _know_ she was pregnant before the ending of the curse but the Doctor here believes that she isn't far away from giving birth, that leads us to believe that we spent far more time in the Enchanted Forest than we'd first thought, close to a year perhaps."

"We aren't sure if Regina was rendered unconscious through the breaking of the curse or something else but she is most certainly cursed herself," when Robin's eyes widened a little, he continued "it is the same curse she placed my wife under, one of eternal sleep only to be broken by True Love's Kiss, a True Love lost with her son's memories."

"I feel there is a lot I will need to be brought up to speed on," Robin sighed, his brain already hurting with the information he'd been given.

David managed a small laugh as he nodded. "I'm leaving to return to the Queen's vault in a moment."

Robin nodded, a hesitance flaring within him that he rarely felt as he shifted on his feet before lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck, trying to work up the courage to ask the question already formed on his tongue.

David, far more perceptive than perhaps Robin had given the Prince credit for, offered "Would you like to join me?" and when the archer hesitated, he reasoned "we can speak more of the circumstances surrounding our return and the Queen's cursed state," confirming that the woman was as they'd suspected her to be, "and, perhaps, begin working on a plan, a strategy to find out just what happened this last year."

That seemed to work for Robin as he replied "If it's no trouble," and at David's reassurance of " _none at all,"_ he finally nodded a little sheepishly, the thought of seeing the Queen again and growing closer to understanding what he may have known of her in their land during the missing year more than appealing. Perhaps he'd also find out just why he felt so drawn to her...connected almost.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to my lovely Beta and fic sister Emily (Lillie-Grey) for always correcting my bad grammar and letting me bounce my terrible ideas off of. This story would not exist without her!**

* * *

 **Present Time - Storybrooke**

 **Henry**

It was weird, this town, absolutely _nothing_ like New York but it's still pretty cool. He likes the diner, has always loved people watching, and to be able to do so in a town of completely new people has his interest constantly peaked. It did help that Granny's diner served one of the best cups of hot cocoa that he'd ever tasted and it was always topped with a healthy dollop of perfectly whipped cream and sprinkled generously with cinnamon...he no longer questioned how they knew his preference for the drink.

Yeah, he quite liked this strange little place in Maine, felt quite content to stay for as long as his Mom needed, but he hoped that with time, he'd get used to the feeling of being watched... _always._

It'd taken him a little while to realise that the people he was watching were watching him too, stealing little glances his way every now and then and though his Mom had told him that it was a small town with barely any visitors, that it was like this for her the first time she came here, he knows there's something else.

It's weird but he trusts his instincts, something his Mom had always taught him to do despite it coming back to bite her in the butt now. Something's odd about this little place and, with Emma preoccupied with finding her new target - something else he doesn't quite believe at the minute but won't push her on - it gives him the time and space to explore Storybrooke and find any hidden secrets without her worrying too much - she's always worried these days and that's something _else_ that has his imagination working overtime.

* * *

 **Robin**

"You are a godsend!" Snow practically moaned as she took the takeout coffee from her husband, dropping a kiss onto his cheek before taking her place in the chair in the corner of the room once more, tired eyes landing back upon the still form of Regina. "Emma and Killian are going to spend today looking for any new faces, see if we can't get a little further on this whole thing."

David nodded before turning back to find Robin focused entirely on the sleeping Queen, eyes trailing over her form with a gently furrowed brow. "There's another chair over there if you'd like to sit," he offered before taking the one beside his wife, pulling her free hand into his lap and enveloping it with his own two. When Snow looked curiously at the archer, no doubt a thousand different theories about his connection to Regina running through her mind, David explained "I think it best if we involve Robin and perhaps some of his men on this," he shrugged, "the more help the better, right?"

Snow nodded almost distractedly, gaze still filled with question though she didn't ask. She did, however, notice the way the outlaw was looking at the sleeping Queen, his eyes moving over the glass coffin in which she lay before landing on her face. He drew closer without conscious thought it seemed, his legs carrying him without the consent of his mind, taking him from her feet, up to where her head lay upon a pillow.

Her dark hair still lay over her shoulder in thick curls, scooped over and tickling the backs of her hands where they were folded over her abdomen. Her expression was peaceful, no lines creasing her forehead or indicating the tightness of her eyes, no snarl nor scowl on her full lips. He'd caught sight of her only a handful of times in the Enchanted Forest, the very first being on one of his first missions. He'd been barely a man but had felt the instant thirst for the chase, for the rush of adrenaline that came with the success of taking means from those who wouldn't miss them and giving them to those who _needed_ them.

She'd been in the gardens, the 'child bride' the elders had called her and he'd realised why the moment their eyes had locked - he'd thought she'd call for the guards but instead she'd simply stared back at him with barely any surprise colouring her features. She'd been around the same age as himself, skin dewy and smooth, her face free of the lines of age but those eyes, they'd been empty, lifeless, resigned to the life she'd looked to have been forced into.

The next time he'd seen her had been many years later whilst hidden behind a thick and dusty tapestry hanging in a long corridor in the Forbidden Fortress. His men were safe, he'd watched and waited for them to be clear of the castle walls before he was to make his own exit but the sight of her, long and slim legs encased in tight shining leather, a long-tailed black coat with red feathered ends that swept across the ground behind her as she walked covering a tight corset that lifted and flaunted her breasts, she was nothing like the young woman he'd seen so long ago. She was different now, hardened and, he remembered thinking, free of the King. Even then he'd been able to feel a little sympathy for the Dark Queen and he'd certainly been able to appreciate the beauty of her in both circumstances.

Here, lying within the very same glass coffin she'd confined her step-daughter to, she appeared to be caught in the middle of both versions of herself. The prince had said that she'd changed whilst in this land and, looking at her, Robin could see what he meant.

* * *

 **Eleven Months Ago - The Enchanted Forest**

"I still don't understand the secrecy, girl."

Dark eyes rolled as she continued kneading at the dough, grabbing a handful of flour that she sprinkled upon the table beneath before slapping the pale mixture back down onto it and continuing, pointing out "You think for one second that those idiots would dare touch your food if they knew who'd had a hand in preparing it?"

"I think you're giving them less credit than they deserve for how they've come to accept you," Granny rebuffed as strong arms worked at stirring the pot filled with her hearty stew - she'd almost snapped Regina's arm off for suggesting she add a bottle of red wine to enrich the sauce but had, begrudgingly, poured a good healthy amount in and merely scowled in reply when the brunette had grinned at her small victory - her eyes never leaving the mixture as she continued "You worked hard for your redemption."

"And look where it's gotten me." Her voice trembled at the remembrance of mornings spent with Henry in the kitchen, of days spent creating weird and wonderful batches of cookies for him to taste and for her to sniff at, and though the smells weren't the same, if she closed her eyes she could just about imagine the sound of his excited squeals that would ring through the kitchen with every beep of the oven timer.

"Is that why you're in here?" the older woman surmised after a long moment of allowing the Queen to gather herself, "To remember him?"

Her brow furrowed as she snapped "I could never forget him," and shook her head, " _never."_

The sound of stirring ceased for a moment as Granny let loose a deep sigh and drawled "Well I suppose helping me cook is far healthier than ripping us from one world to the next."

"Yes, well," Regina shook herself from the grief clawing at her and grumbled, "you're entitled to your opinion, I suppose."

A dry chuckle was all that sounded from behind her and for a long moment, both women simply worked in something of a contented silence until two new voices grew in volume and clarity and had dark eyes shooting up from the metal tray - deep and rectangular - into which she was moulding the dough.

"I'm sure Granny is far too busy to be making- oh…" Robin froze in the doorway, "Your Majesty."

"Regina!"

She startled at the sound of their voices - surprised by Roland's sudden cry of her name but more so by Robin's presence, feeling herself grow rather shy with Granny no doubt watching behind her - her eyes lifting from her work to find Roland beaming and moving towards her.

" _Don't run_ " she and Robin both warned together and though it earned her a heavy sigh of frustration from the toddler, it also garnered a small smile from the man in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, lifting her hands from the dough and wiping the excess on her apron before moving to untie the ribbon at the base of her spine, "I shouldn't have-" she frowned, "it's not my place."

"It's okay," Robin replied easily, "I'm glad to know he's being watched over on the days he escapes my line of sight."

She was still a little antsy at his sudden arrival, but managed a small smile in return before looking down to where Roland was tugging rather insistently on her dress. "How may I help you, good sir?"

Roland giggled, as he always did when she addressed him as such, before he looked to the table on tiptoes and asked "What's that?" and pointed to the dough.

She bent at the knee, cupping her hands beneath his armpits - shooting Robin a silent question with her eyes which he answered with a nod - before heaving him up into her arms. He was a little heavier than Henry at that age but not by much and the familiar weight was as nice as it was heartbreaking. "It's going to be bread."

His brow furrowed as he looked from the table, to her and back again. "It doesn't look like bread."

Regina chuckled along with the woman behind her and Robin, telling him "No it doesn't, does it." She shifted him a little more onto her hip and explained "but it will once it has baked for a little while."

His eyes lit up, "Can I help?!"

"If it's okay with your father," the archer nodded his permission when Roland asked, "and you promise to listen to everything I say and be very careful" he nodded vigorously, his whole body shaking in her arms with the movement, "then of course you can, sweetheart."

He inflated with a gleeful excitement - much like a party balloon, Regina mused - that filled his whole body as he grinned toothily at her, those dimples womb achingly precious when he turned to regard his father. "Are you staying, Papa?"

"No, my boy" he replied on a fond chuckle, "I'll allow you the pleasure of the Queen's company all to yourself for the morning" and Regina found that she was equally relieved - he always had the strangest of effects on her when he was too close - and disappointed, she quite enjoyed their playful back and forth. "But then I expect both of your behinds parked in seats beside my own when we sample your wonderful creation." And _oh..._ well…

"I believe, unlike your son's, my _behind_ is very much my own to do with as I please, thief."

It was supposed to be biting, cutting yet Robin merely chuckled and apologised with a dimpled grin before his son was cutting in enthusiastically.

"Only if I get to sit next to the Queen!" Roland bargained, much to Regina's surprise.

"If the Queen sits in the middle then we can both share that honour," his gaze caught Regina's, bright blue and filled with an amusement at her utter shock...they were _fighting_ over sitting next to her. "What do you say, m'lady?" He was revelling in it, a teasing smirk on his lips, "would you allow us the pleasure of your company?"

She was saved - or rather thieved of her answer - when Granny spoke up rather gruffly from behind her. "She'll sit with you, now stop flirting and get out of my kitchen. There's work to be done."

And with nothing more than a bark of laughter and hands raised in surrender, Robin backed out of the kitchens with one last look thrown at Regina and absolutely no denial on his lips. He'd been purposefully flirting with her and for the life of her, Regina didn't know quite what to do with that information.

* * *

Snow smiled as she grew closer, eyebrows raised as though already expecting Regina to join them at their table and ordinarily - begrudgingly - she would have if not for the small and excitable toddler leading her rather forcefully to where his father was sat - with two chairs empty beside him - laughing with his men and just the sight of him, of those dimples denting his cheeks and his eyes alight with his joy, had her stomach flipping with nerves that she was growing rather suspicious of. He was handsome, any fool could see that, but she didn't like him...not like that…

"Hi, papa!"

She schooled her expression as Robin turned to greet his son with a beaming smile that showed his perfectly white teeth. He shifted his body in his seat, turning so that the back was at his side and giving him enough space to open out his arms and welcome Roland into them, an embrace that the boy accepted with a giggle - rather awkwardly though, he neglected to release Regina's hand and so pulled her with him until her thighs knocked into Robin's shins.

Her lips parted with a soft gasp as she immediately tried to pull back, to gain some distance and to stop the strange fluttering warmth that spread through her stomach at the contact.

"Are you going to release the Queen?" Robin chuckled, clearly far less affected by their proximity than she was and his laughter only continued when Roland pulled back from their hug and gave a resolute shake of his head.

"I like holding Regina's hand."

"Be that as it may," Robin chuckled, catching the smile that curled at Regina's lips without thought at his son's answer, he looked back down at Roland with raised eyebrows and commented "I think, for dinner time at least, that Her Majesty should be allowed her hand back, don't you?" and when Roland looked fit to argue, Robin posed "how do you expect her to be able to sample all of your hard work without both of her hands?"

"I can feed her!"

Both adults laughed at that, Robin's Merry Men too though she paid them no mind for the moment, "and how will you feed yourself?"

And well, from the frown on his little features, it was quite clear that the little outlaw hadn't thought of that.

"I'll tell you what, sweetheart" Regina interrupted gently, giving a gentle tug on their joined hands to pull his attention back around to her as she lowered herself into a crouch to better talk to him. "How about you sit on my lap whilst we eat?" she smiled warmly at him, "that way you're still close to me."

He thought about it for a moment, little mouth moving to the side as he weighed up his options before, finally, he was nodding, accepting her offer. "Can we still sit next to papa?"

Her answer this time was not as readily available but still, with some hesitation, she nodded and answered with a tentative "Sure, of course we can."

* * *

"He seems to have taken quite the shine to you," Snow mused as Regina lowered her hand once more with a small smile tugging at her lips at Roland's petulant pout. He'd wanted to remain with her, telling his papa that his bath could wait until that evening, until he'd finished at least one game of hide and seek with the Queen but, of course, Robin had told him that a stinky boy did not make the most appropriate of playmates and - after one of the most adorable arguments she'd ever witnessed - that had been that.

Regina let out of a soft breath of laughter through her nose, "I'm quite taken with the little charmer myself."

Snow's eyebrows raised as her smirk grew and she teased "I wasn't talking about Roland."

Regina rolled her eyes - ignoring the somersaults in her stomach - before turning to regard Snow with a raised eyebrow and lips pursed. "Don't start this again," and when Snow opened her mouth to reply, she reminded her "I told you on the very first day that we met that I hold no interest in Robin Hood."

The Princess' brow furrowed as she corrected Regina, "What you _actually_ said was that he 'smells of forest'" she shrugged and began walking back to her husband having left the breakfast table to invite Robin, his men and his son for a picnic in the gardens later - after Roland's bath of course. "That doesn't sound like 'uninterested' to me, Your Majesty." When Regina's mouth opened, her brow furrowed almost incredulously, Snow stopped her with a serious but soft "He likes you, Regina," round eyes kind, "don't allow your stubborn pride nor your fear of the future to ruin what could be a good thing." And without another word, she turned and walked the last few steps to Charming's side, leaning into him and leaving a rather confused Queen to her thoughts.

* * *

She found them on the east side of the castle, not too far from the locked gate of her private gardens. The air was filled with laughter as people basked in the afternoon sun, children - more than she had realised were staying in the castle - giving chase to one another and giggling wildly when their parents joined in the game. Roland was one of them, beaming as he escaped the large hands of Little John and shrieked for his papa to help him.

Robin, for his part, was laughing too with his back pressed against the thick trunk of an oak tree, one knee bent to rest his foot flat upon the ground whilst the other was stretched straight in front of him. He looked to be the epitome of relaxed and she envied him that, the ease with which he held himself, no worries, no immediate fear.

Snow and Charming were in the middle of the grass, sat side by side in a large circle of people, chatting with those either side of them and nibbling at the various breads, cheeses and grapes laid out along with a wide array of other foods on the checkered cloth in the middle of the circle. Everyone seemed jovial, happy - everything that she wasn't.

She didn't belong here with them, celebrating life and community beneath the brilliant sun. She deserved the cold and the dark, she deserved loneliness.

Her stomach churned at the thought of facing so many that she'd wronged in the past. There were shadows to walk within inside the castle, out here she was completely open to their stares and to their scrutiny.

Foolish bravery had clouded her judgement before arriving, prompting her to leave usually heavily shadowed lids bare, to line dark eyes with a slick of dark brown liner as opposed to midnight black and coat her lashes only once with her mascara. Gone were the brushes of powder used to sharpen her features, to exaggerate cheekbones and her slim nose. She'd looked softer in the mirror and especially so with the way she'd left her dark hair to hang in thick loose curls about her shoulders, only an intricate braid running the length of her hairline to keep it out of her eyes.

She'd even chosen a more simple dress, a powder blue chiffon creation that barely revealed the swells of her breasts, showed off her lean waist and fell about her legs to sweep the tops of the ivory pumps she wore.

She felt absolutely ridiculous now, out in the open without her mask and her armour.

* * *

 **Robin**

Robin had missed this terribly, more so than he'd first realised. A life cooped up had never been one he'd wanted to live, freedom tasting far sweeter than any riches his family had boasted. He'd felt guilt for leaving as he had, still did when he thought of his poor mother.

She'd passed mere days after his 14th name day, a long illness that had thinned her and stolen breath from her lungs. They'd thought she'd recover, had hoped and prayed for it everyday but when her blood had spotted her kerchief, that hope had died and shortly afterwards, so had she.

His father had been no good to begin with, an angry man who favoured his liquor over his family. He'd lain a hand on Robin's mother only once - his young son had promptly broken it. From that day, Robin had bore the brunt of his father's anger.

He wondered on what had happened to him sometimes, when his eyes fell upon his son and his heart instantly filled with great affection - he wondered if there had ever been a day in which Robert of Locksley had looked upon him with anything more than indifference. He'd no doubt died at some point or another, more than likely to have drank himself to death. Robin felt no guilt where his was concerned.

He'd almost died, those first few months, had almost died a great handful of times. Ill-prepared and as young as he was.

The cold had been unforgiving. Had seeped into his bones and taken root, induced muscle aching shivers that'd kept him up through the night. The storms had washed out any fire that he'd managed to spark to life and had dampened the only things he had to keep him warm.

Food had been scarce, berries and mushrooms his only sustenance for he had neither the energy nor the skill to catch any kind of animal. The weight had practically evaporated from him.

Little John always says that finding him must have been fate, hidden as he was beneath a blanket of moss and leaves - he knew enough not to leave himself vulnerable to attack in the night - that he hadn't even noticed him lying there until he'd gone and tripped over him and it's a funny story now but half dead and frightened, a young Robin hadn't found it all that amusing.

They'd taken him back to their camp - Little John, Tuck and Much had been the only inhabitants in those days - had tended to the wounds he'd sustained, had fed him and had given him a change of clothes and warm shelter and slowly but surely, he'd been able to rebuild his strength.

Over time he'd learnt - through his men and through others they'd recruited along the way - how to respectfully take from the forest. He'd learnt how to track and to hunt and, more importantly, how to read the land. He'd grown into a man in the forest, had planted his roots firmly in the open air and recently, he hadn't realised how truly disconnected he'd felt to it until he was sitting with the warm grass beneath him and a gentle breeze blowing about him, watching his boy revel in the outdoors just as he had.

The Queen had spent the better part of her morning securing her protection charm around the castle barrier, he'd been told, making it so that they could enjoy the warmth of the sun without the threat of attack. Grateful faces surrounded him but he had yet to see her.

It always seemed to worry him, the Queen not being around, and it wasn't for the reasons one would think. He wasn't wary of her hurting others, in all honesty, he was wary of her hurting herself.

Ever since the day they'd managed to reclaim the castle, when she'd talked of cursing herself with such despair in her lovely dark eyes and absolutely no fear of it, of the nothingness that it would no doubt bring, it'd stirred something deep within him, had brought forth a sudden need to show her that there was more to her life than she believed. That happiness was possible for her.

It only helped that she'd fallen for his son.

He doesn't quite understand the extent of his feelings for her - but feelings they most certainly are - yet he knows that his silent wants are for far more than friendship. She's terrified of him though, that much had become clear with how she'd reacted to any of his subtle smirks and flirtations, so he won't push her for anything more than she wants to give him. When he spies her across the gardens however, all thought of anything other than wanting to hold her close and bury his nose in her dark locks evaporates.

She is stunning and, if his eyes aren't deceiving him with the amount of space between them, she looks set to run.

* * *

 **Regina**

"Will you be joining us this afternoon, Your Majesty?"

She startled, jumping at the sound of another's voice having not heard their approach and when she turned, she found herself surprised to find Friar Tuck standing behind her with a gentle smile. She hadn't had much interaction with the man nor had she ever really gauged as much of an opinion of him as she had the likes of Little John - he was a little more patient with her these days with the amount of time both his friend and Roland had been spending with her - and, in turn, she found him rather hard to read.

"I know that both Roland and his father would be pleased to share your company on this wonderful day," he continued, passing no comment on the way her expression changed with the mention of Robin, "I was about to make my way over there, would you like to walk with me?" He folded his arm across his body and extended his elbow towards her in an invitation that had her lips parting slightly in surprise before she was hesitantly threading her hand through the space he'd created and falling into step when he began walking.

It was somewhat awkward, this kind of contact with a man she barely knew, but she found there was a calmness about him that helped to soothe her nerves even if only a little. They were still quite a way from the others.

"If I may be so bold as to say, Your Majesty" he began, glancing to her and waiting for her nod before turning his gaze away from her once more to continue, "you are far different than any of us believed you to be not so very long ago."

"I doubt that very much," her eyes fell to her feet, that familiar pang of self-deprecation lancing through her.

"I won't force your belief," he commented softly and without judgement, leaving her to react as she wished before he assured her "merely attempting to open your eyes to the present rather than the past. Things have changed, Your Majesty," he continued, "and us Merry Men are not the only ones to have noticed."

She glanced to him momentarily before realising that they were almost within the first throng of those enjoying the sun, many looking their way with eyes void of the fear and the hatred she was used to seeing. They didn't smile at her, nor did she expect them to, but there lay no contempt within steady gazes. Perhaps the Friar was right.

* * *

 **Present time - Storybrooke**

 **Henry**

He frowned with chilled fingers curling over the metal gate as he looked across the barely rippling waters of the large pond. He felt...odd.

It wasn't just the park - he was quite sure he was just being silly, a lot of parks looked the same, had the same layout - but the smells, the sounds, the _feelings_ it evoked in him. He felt nostalgic for reasons he couldn't understand. Perhaps his mother had brought him once when he was a child and he was remembering the place wrong, perhaps it was _here_ that he'd almost toppled into the cold waters before his Mom had taken a good grip of his duffel coat and scolded him for playing too close to the water's edge…

But then he had memories of other times, of falling and scraping his knees, of ripping apart great hunks of bread and throwing them to the ducks, grinning at his mother's laughter when one brave little thing had swam right up to him and taken the chunk of bread from his fingers...but in his head, her laughter didn't sound the same anymore.

It was strange, like one of those weird fever dreams in which he knew his Mom was his Mom, knew that the figure he was looking at, the figure that was always watching over him was her, but she didn't look like his Mom. Her hair was dark and shorter and her clothes were different but he could never see her face. It unnerved him in a way nothing ever had, like he had the answers right in front of him but couldn't grasp them and now, with every new person that wandered past him - staring, always staring - it only added to his growing paranoia.

It was rather instinctual, something of a subconscious decision when he dropped his hand to curl over the gate and pushed down on the latch to open it with a creak that had a pang of remembrance lancing through him and his brow furrowing. Something about this place was off and his mother knew, every step closer to the water's edge had him all the more convinced.

 **Emma**

"Look," Emma sighed, a little out of practice having spent the past year in the same shoes she had for most of her life, one where invisibility, for the most part, earned her a living. "I know you're all angry and you're scared, things didn't happen as they were supposed to and once again you have no memory of whatever it was that was done to you," they were nodding with her, moments away from hearty shouts of " _yeah!",_ ever the stereotypical town mob, "but I promise you that we are doing our very best to find the person responsible."

"Isn't it obvious!?" Leroy cried, jumping up to his feet and looking around at the others, clearly trying to rile them much to Emma's exasperation, "who's done something like this before? Who took our memories the last time?" He snarled viciously before spitting "the Evil Queen!"

Emma's heart sank as her eyes fell shut, she didn't want to tell them what had happened to Regina, didn't want to reveal that she was currently the weakest and most vulnerable she had ever been to people clearly still out for her blood with the way they were shouting their agreement. She did, however, give a firm and extremely clear statement of "Regina had nothing to do with this, believe me."

"And how can you be so sure?"

 _Because she's lying in a magic induced coma, for fucks sake!_

"I just am."

"No offence girl," Granny stood from her place in the barely seated crowd, "but that's just not good enough."

"Well," Emma's eyebrows raised with her tone, a little tired of being spoken to like an idiot when she'd been practically forced to come back to this damn town anyway, "it's going to have to be."

Red leather whipped across the room, slapping against the hard back of a chair she hadn't sat in for over a year, yet felt she'd barely removed her ass from with how familiar all of this was. _I knew I shouldn't have come back here._

It was unfair really, to think of such a thing when, in all honesty, she was the luckiest of anyone in this damn town. She wasn't cursed, she wasn't missing any of her memories and she wasn't being hunted by some new villainous force but still, life this past year had been so wonderfully normal in comparison and now, now she was right back where she'd started.

"Were you in love with him?"

She startled at the sound of his voice, releasing a weighted breath as she turned to find Hook leaning against the station doorway. "Who?"

"Your monkey ma-"

"Walsh."

The obnoxious smirk that had curled at his lips faltered with her tone. She was in no mood. "Walsh then," he amended with a slowly furrowing brow, watching as she dropped forward to rest her palms on the surface of the desk. "Were you in love with him?"

 _What if I had been!?_ She wanted to rage at him because he didn't own her, he never had. One damn kiss and he'd thought their supposed 'true love' could break a curse. She barely knew him - it was as much a lie as she was able to accept in that moment, as frazzled as she was - still, she replied "no," on a heavy sigh, too tired to argue any further.

"Still," he continued, "I apologise for what happened. It couldn't have been easy."

"When has my life ever been easy?" It was self-deprecating, yet ridiculous when faced with a town full of people who'd known nothing but hardship for the past couple of decades, but she was still smarting over the fact that she was here.

"Easy is boring, Swan" he scoffed good-naturedly - guilt lanced through her, he was trying at the very least - "and boring you are not."

She blinked tiredly and asked, "But what if I want to be?"

It took him aback, had his lips parting in surprise as he searched for something to say, A task he was saved from when the phone on her desk screamed to life.

She rolled her eyes, "I guess that's not my choice to make," before she lifted the phone to her ear. "Sheriff Swan speaking" and found herself surprised to hear Whale's voice in her ear.

"I need to report that the unconscious body of a young boy, has been pulled from the park pond just under 30 minutes ago. He's currently stable but unresponsive and we are not treating the circumstances as suspicious. It seems he simply fell whilst admiring the waters."

Her brow furrowed as she stopped her scribbling, pen still pressed to paper. "So, why are you calling me?"

His completely unfeeling response had her blood running cold. "Because the boy in question is your son, Sheriff Swan. It's Henry."


End file.
